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Dear Partner: Your Snoring is Driving Me Absolutely Bonkers
Even on the rare nights when I manage to crawl into bed at a reasonable hour, falling asleep is another story entirely. That’s when my mind kicks into overdrive, replaying the day’s events, all the chores I neglected, and the endless to-do list for tomorrow.
“Let’s mull over the laundry!” my brain chirps, suddenly energized despite my exhaustion. Oh, and what about the mortgage? The kids’ school play? The weather? The grocery list? That Pinterest recipe I was excited about. And don’t forget the article someone shared on your Facebook. Oh, and that crush you had in middle school who dumped you for that girl with the fabulous hair. Let’s think about ALL THE THINGS!
And there’s my husband, blissfully unaware of my mental chaos. The moment his head hits the pillow, he’s out cold. How does he manage to switch off so quickly? Does he ponder his thoughts while lounging on the toilet? Because it sure isn’t at bedtime. His eyes close, and he’s snoring before I even have a chance to settle in.
I know it’s not his fault, but a little part of me can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. What I wouldn’t give to be able to drift off without chasing sleep all over the place. But hey, he works hard, and I don’t begrudge him his peaceful sleep. It’s not that he falls asleep instantly that drives me to the brink; it’s the fact that he snores—loudly and incessantly—every single night.
It’s a challenge enough trying to sleep with my thoughts racing, but add a symphony of snoring right next to me, and I’m left wide awake. He has an impressive repertoire of snores: the “Rusty Chainsaw,” the “Dying Vacuum,” the “Asthmatic Darth Vader,” and the “Angry Bumblebee,” to name just a few. I might appreciate the variety if it weren’t the most obnoxious noise ever.
I usually start by trying to ignore it. After all, he’s not doing this on purpose; he’s totally oblivious to the fact that it sounds like he’s trying to inhale the curtains. But settling down for a good night’s sleep while there’s a windstorm next to me is like trying to brush my teeth with crushed cookies—impossible. Every night, I hold onto the hope that I’ll somehow manage to sleep through the noise, but it never works out.
I begin with a gentle poke and a soft, “Pssst… you’re snoring.” On a good night, he stirs and rolls over. But that happens about once in twelve tries. The rest of the time, my gentle prod is useless—like tossing a pillow at a burglar.
So, I lie there, eyes shut tight, taking deep breaths, trying to reach a state of Zen that eludes me. But just like a pot about to boil, my frustration bubbles up. So, my whisper transforms into a firmer nudge and a louder, “You’re snoring!”
The tricky part about snorers is they tend to be heavy sleepers. So, while my nudge is an upgrade from the poke, it usually fails to work. Instead of losing my cool, I attempt to find my inner peace again. I can handle this! I can rise above! I focus on other sounds—the fan, the wind, my own breathing. I even try earbuds with soothing tunes.
But nothing drowns out the thunderous “Snnnxxxxkkkhhh-a-Lot.”
My irritation escalates to full-blown annoyance. “Tranquil” has left the building, and I’m imagining ways to use dirty laundry to muffle that relentless, maddening noise. Instead, I muster the energy for a decisive shove and a sigh of exasperation: “You’re snoring!”
At this point, he stirs awake. “Geez,” he mutters, rolling over. “Why are you so grumpy?”
Finally, as silence descends upon us, I can begin to calm down. My breathing stabilizes, and I can finally enter that blissful state of sleep I’ve been longing for. Until… skkkknnnnnnggghhhhhhhh.
Tomorrow night, I’m keeping a sock handy under my pillow.